


Baked to the Future

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Baking Was Not PArt of BAsic Training, Birthday Chaos, M/M, prompt request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: For Freshsalad. Soldier wants to surprise Engie for his special day.Things go chaotically. As usual.
Relationships: Engineer/Soldier (Team Fortress 2), helmet party - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Baked to the Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).



> Not edited, bc midnight.

“ATTAA _ AAAAAAAA _ **_AAAA_ ** **AACK** !” 

The blood-curdling battle-cry echoed through the halls of RED base, startling dozing doves and ensuring at least one mercenary snatched at nearby debris for make-shift weaponry out of pure instinct. 

Without any further preamble, loud and far-too-familiar whooshing sounds could be heard from the direction of the base kitchen; quickly subsumed by an almighty cacophony as the smoke alarms went off all at once. Frantic jets of water streamed down from the ceiling from the cheaply-installed and barely-working sprinkler system; followed swiftly by a loud tirade of curses and confusion from the various members of the team.

Streams of furious French could be heard melting paint from the walls as the outline of someone stormed down the corridor, in invisible shoes that squelched expensively with each and every angry step. The someone rudely elbowing the bleary-eyed Sniper out of the way, before the Kiwi had a chance to even work out what was going on; the muzzy mercenary had awoken to a torrential downpour in the loungeroom, about three seconds ago, and immediately armed himself with a… huh, well, with a rolled up copy of Mann Co’s Smissmas catalogue. To be fair, it rated a solid 11/10 on the Hale Scale of Literary Pain; though Snipes wasn’t sure if it had to do with how hard you could hit with it, or how hard it was for Hale to read…

“Vhat is all this noise?!” Medic yells, eyes manic as he kicks open the Infirmary doors rather over-dramatically, and frightens the bejeezus out of a rather soggy Scout. “Who DARES disturb my birds?”

Heavy can be seen following behind, a hulking behemoth of a man with several frantic doves all fretting and cooing as the Russian holds them close to his chest. The set of Heavy’s jaw said that someone was going to suffer for upsetting the Doktor, not to mention distressing the birds. 

“Ah dunno, but they’re gettin’ a right kickin’ when I get ahold of them!” Demo announces, staggering through a doorway still smoking faintly. The clash of hot gunpowder and soggy singed attire was not overtly pleasant; it was clear that the explosives expert had been disturbed at the wrong second by the earlier cry. 

“You think you’re pissed? My rare baseball cards are freakin’ ruined now, and I even had two’a them signed!” Scout mopes, anger creasing his brow as he trails the saturated team on their trek towards the kitchen. Water was starting to build up in the hallways, and pool around their ankles… this would get out of hand if no one took charge.

  
  


“Now, now, I think everyone just needs to calm down a bit.” Engie reassures, appearing from a side corridor as fast as his stocky frame would allow. He scrubs at his hands with an equally grease-stained rag, desperately trying to curtail the angry mob before anyone did something they’d regret in the morning. “I have a guess at who’s behind this here mess, but you know neither of ‘em have good self control.”

“So frickin’ what? That’s never stopped you guys comin’ after me when I mess up!” Scout interjects angrily, definitely Not-Pouting. 

Well, Engie guessed the kid had a point there. Team tended to come down on him like a pile of bricks when the runner started doing something weird like practice his batting at 3am… but then, it ain’t like he was the only one. 

“Perhaps, scoot. They also get annoyed when I lose track of time and stay in my workshop tinkering all night long… or people get their backs up about Medic doing his, uh, ‘experimentin’ and the maniacal laughter thing he does late at night when the rest of us just want shut eye.” Engie cajoles, gesturing for calm. His goggled eyes move across the gathered mercenaries, taking in the sight of wet, furious faces and the small river that was starting to swell about their calves at this point. “First of all, we all get a bit tetchy with one another at different times but at the end of the day, we all know it’s just something we gotta get used to… because most of the time it’s something y’all find fun. Secondly, I’m gonna need at least two people to go open the outer doors or we’ll be swimmin’ in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

Grumbling, but unable to formulate a counter argument, Scout turns and jogs off with a series of wet slaps. Sniper slouches off after him with languid strides, in no real hurry to handle the immediate crisis.

Engie catches sight of water displacing beside him, and the gunslinger snaps out to grab a wiry arm. “Now hold on there, Spook… I’m handlin’ this. You go back to your room and blow dry your suits or sulk or whatever you do in that smokin’ room of yours… that little knife of yours ain’t gonna calm the situation none.”

“ _ Get your filthy hands off of my suit!” _ Spy hisses, snapping back into full visibility. “It was made by monks in a secluded monastery, handspun from the finest silk… and you _ dare _ to impunge the fibres with your foul greasy fingers?” 

“Not until you calm down, and maybe drop the knife, Spook. I got this one…” Engie reassures. Although, as he sees the sharp retort forming on Spy’s tongue, Engie hisses, “... _ now ain’t the time for you to test out those rusty parenting skills of yours, Spook. _ Let me handle this, you know Pyro needs a… delicate touch.”

“Fine, then I will just kill the fool of a soldier.” Spy shoots back, glaring. 

“Ach, no ye’re not laddie.” Demo interjects, slinging an overly companionable arm around Spy’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s just go get ourselves cleaned up and see if we can repair the damage to ye fancy threads. Leave Engie to handle the firebug and his man, or ye’ll just get yourself riled up for nought…” 

Spy mumbled something in frustration, but his rigid shoulders slumped. “Ah… you know I cannot deny you anything, mon cher… but mark my words, the soldier will pay for this!”

With that, Spy whirled about and marched off with as much dignity as one can when sloshing their way through knee-high water. Medic seemed inclined to open his mouth and argue… but Heavy just put a hand to the doctor’s shoulder, and shook his head. Engie tried hard not to smirk as the fight seemed to drain right out of the German; he knew the feeling all too well…

There was a faint cry of delight, overshadowed by an angry gurgling as water started to recede frantically out of the corridor. Seems like someone was managing to drain the small ocean filling the RED base… still, half the problem was the malfunctioning sprinkler system, which continued to drizzle despite no evidence of an actual blaze.

Speaking of which…

  
  


Engie waded ‘upstream’ towards the kitchen, which was an interesting sight to see from an outside perspective. He could smell a wet charcoal scent, and hear the sound of muffled sobs; oh lord, not again…

“Now what in the Sam Hill’s been going on in here?” the Texan rumbles, rounding the kitchen door with some effort as a rather powerful undercurrent threatens to topple him completely. He pauses, taking in the almost comical sight.

Pyro is sitting on top of the kitchen bench, legs drawn up to avoid any contact with the water below, and nursing one solitary birthday candle in their cupped, gloved hands. With all the care and desperation of someone trying to keep a chick warm in a thunderstorm…

Atop their head, well… the mask, a wet multicoloured mush that might once have been a party hat. A slightly charred hat rests atop the painted face of the backburner.

Soldier appears to have frozen in place, eyes wide and semi-visible under the ever-present army helmet… to which a mushy party hat had been duct taped. The American was frantically attempting to keep the charred mess of… something well-baked, upright. There were several loaves of the soggy bread-type substance all glued together with overly-runny white liquid… Engie desperately hoped it wasn’t glue, but knowing these two, it darn well just might be.

Solly’s rocket launcher was propping the whole amalgamation upright, but just barely. HE was frantically attempting to jam more birthday candles back in, blindly, as he refused to break eye contact with Engie for even a second.

“Mrrphrrrse!” Pyro yells, throwing what might once have been confetti, but was now ash flakes all over the inventor. That’s when it hits the inventor what was going on here… it was cake. A birthday cake. OR it was supposed to be.

  
  
  


He can’t help the goofy grin that breaks out across his features as Solly flushed an uncharacteristic red . “Aw darlin’, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble just for me… I’m right touched that you remembered.” 

Engie pointedly does not look at the six or seven charred lumps lining the rest of the bench space; and what he thinks might be a sentient green mass oozing its way out of a mixing bowl. And how in the seven hells they managed to get those eggs on the ceiling, he couldn’t fathom… but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

“Of course I remembered, Engie, your deployment in my life is the most important thing that has happened since…” Solly trailed off, a little unsure. His memory got a little fuzzy sometimes, mainly because of all the magic and potions he’d messed with whilst roommates with merasmus… 

Engie pulled the man close for a hug. “Aw you, c’mere. I’m glad I met you too… wouldn’t be datin’ ya otherwise, would I?” he chuckles. 

“Mmmph?” Pyro gestures to themself. 

“And you’re important to me too, Pyro, just in a different way.” Engie reassures, definitely keeping a placid expression as he feels Jane’s hot lips press against his throat in just the right way. 

Engie couldn’t be quite sure, but he was certain the firebug just rolled their eyes… they gestured again to a bare patch of bench. The inventor tried to skim over the piles of not-food, charred cake, scorch marks and things-that-shouldn’t-ever-go-in-cakes arrayed about them. Far as he could tell, neither of them knew that the base had an oven… that might explain the soot silhouettes on the walls and Pyro’s backburner in the kitchen.

“Wanted to show due diligence in honouring my commanding officer, on his date of tactical deployment to the earth.” Jane murmured, and the heat of it sent a thrill down Engie’s spine; though he tried hard to stop his own ‘level one sentry’ from popping up and ruining the moment. “I would lay down my life for you, Dell… I’d even let you wear my helmet outside of bed. I… I love you. And I’m sorry that I have failed in my mission… baking was not in basic training.” 

“And I love you too, Jane… and I appreciate the effort you went into to make me a birthday cake. How’s about we try to shut off the water first, then we’ll clean this up and make something using the oven… see if that turns out a mite less well-done. Not that I don’t love your cake…” Engie reassures, feeling the military man’s own rocket launcher starting to prime itself for launch; a hot and heavy weight that stole the inventor’s focus for a second too long.

“Fwoot!” The airblast sends pieces of, uh, ‘cake’ flying in all directions; snapping Engie and Solly's focus away from their, uh, ‘teamwork’ and back to the firebug.

An exasperated “Mmmm-mm-mmmph!” seems to emanate from the gasmask, as Pyro points across the room to the cupboard. Jane grins broadly, and Engie feels his heartrate pick up; not quite fear, but at this point he wouldn’t be surprised if the pair had decided to get him a sentient jackhammer bent on homicide as a gift…

  
  


The doors fling open, and Engie almost sags in relief, but mostly he can’t help but grin.

Lieutenant Bites and the other raccoons are sitting arranged on shelves, each holding a paper plate -somehow safe and dry despite the wet chaos- with a letter on it.

‘ _ HAPEE BIRTHDAE DELL _ ’ it spells.

“Aw you shouldn’t have gone t’all this here trouble, you two. I love it though, and I appreciate the effort you went to.” Dell smiles, giving Pyro a side-armed hug that made the firebug clap their hands.

“And you…” he rounds on Soldier, who balks for just a split second. “I love you t’hell and back, but promise me you’ll let one of the others help with any cakes in the future.”

Soldier deflates a little, “Yes, sir.”

Even his salute sems dejected.

“Now, now, that ain’t what I meant… besides, I think you’ll like my crash-course in ‘frosting’.” Engie winks, making it very clear to the occasionally absent-minded military man. “So maybe Pyro can take the raccoons for a swim, now and I’ll help you to… clean up in here. Seems like your outfit’s a mess and needs to come off…”

  
  


Pyro hurriedly leaps from the counter and begins herding raccoons out, even handing a few different cutting boards and bowls to use as flotation devices. At the last, Pyro snatches up Lieutenant Bites and covers the little animal’s eyes, giving the two mercenaries a very Pointed Look before leaving the room cradling the raccoon. 

Engie can’t help but laugh at the antics, and feels his whole body tingle when Jane’s own guffaws resonate through that broad chest; echoing between their entangled bodies like bodyheat. Terrible cooking aside, sometimes Dell can’t fathom how he managed to catch a man as wonderful as Jane…

And the look he gets back, peering reverently from under the ever-present helmet, says that Jane feels just the same.

They move, as if magnetised, arms curling about one another and mouths pressing firmly in a dance they had perfected in the past few months. Still new and exciting, just enough to be old and familiar, routine. Perfect balance.

“Happy birthday, Dell…” Jane breathes as he pulls back, a hand cupping the man’s cheek. It’s clear that the military man’s delight is in no small part due to the level two sentry Dell couldn’t help grinding against Jane’s thigh; and the flush creeping up from under the overalls. “Do you want your present now, or later?”

Engie wraps his arms around Jane’s throat, laughing at the absurdity of this whole scenario. “Darlin’, you’re already here… that’s all I need. Thank you for this, and for being here, with me. It means more than I can say.”

Jane grins, “Permission to engage allied forces in tactical maneuvers?” 

Dell chuckles a moment before replying, “Permission granted, Private.”

  
  


If the charcoal mess of an almost cake dissolves beneath their combined bodyweight, neither man notices. Their eyes, minds and hearts focused solely on the other.

Dell, for his part, thought this might well turn out to be his best birthday yet… and he couldn’t wait to spoil Jane rotten in a few months, when his turn came around.

  
  



End file.
